


Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue

by welzes



Series: Spectrum [3]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 23:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17151470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welzes/pseuds/welzes
Summary: In which Yggdrasil attempts to aggressively woo Rosetta with flowers.





	Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ackermanx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermanx/gifts).



> As this was written to be a standalone fic, the basic premise of the world is that people are born with monochromatic vision that transitions into color around the age of six; however, there's a deficient color that doesn't pop until one meets one's soulmate.

1.

It's a typical, quiet morning in the quaint florist shop when the door jingles softly. Rosetta lifts her head from the notepad and calculator on the counter, ready to greet the potential customer.

She's cute, the girl. With soft, round features and a halter top dress that complements her pink hair and fair complexion, the girl is striking in an innocent way as she wanders the shop. She looks around every which way; her expression, one of quiet awe despite the modest display of the shop.

Rosetta smiles, then says, "Welcome. If you need help finding anything, let me know."

The girl starts, snapping her head front and center to meet Rosetta's eyes. She stares with remarkably big eyes before making a beeline to the section of roses, from which she plucks a single orange flower. As she approaches the counter with the rose clasped in both hands, her natural pout curves upward into a small smile.

With the same courtesy due all her customers, Rosetta rings up the transaction. Yet, upon finalizing the exchange, she notices that the girl's gaze has wandered to land on the side of her head. Blinking, she reaches up to touch the blue rose hairpin that she wears day in, day out.

"Oh, is this what you're looking at? It's rather pretty, isn't it? Unfortunately, I don't carry roses of the blue variety," she says, her brow creasing faintly in apology.

The girl blinks, seeming to have no qualms about the news, before she holds the orange rose out over the counter. It takes a good handful of seconds for Rosetta to take the hint, and she expels an airy laugh.

"This is for me?"

Beaming, the girl nods. It's not the first time that a customer has bought a flower or a dozen in a (gently) rejected attempt to gift her; however, coming from this particular girl, Rosetta can't help but to accept.

"I don't normally take gifts from my customers," she starts, "but for you, my dear, I'll make an exception."

2.

On the same hour of the next day, the girl returns. This time, she plucks a yellow rose from the same section she'd visited the day before and offers it before Rosetta even has the chance to ring up the purchase.

"Goodness, aren't you an impatient one? You'll have to buy it before you can give it to me!" exclaims Rosetta.

It takes less than a minute for the purchase to finalize, and Rosetta receives the rose from the girl, who watches her with an exaggerated tilt of the head in apparent anticipation. Whatever she's looking for, Rosetta can't say.

If it's a pass the girl was trying to make, yellow wasn't the ideal choice. Rosetta twirls the rose by its stem between her index finger and thumb once the girl departs with that same bounce from yesterday. She wonders if there'll be a third rose before the week ends, and which color will be next.

A part of her hopes that there won't be a third time. That girl appears much too sweet to turn away packing with the crushing blows of rejection and monetary loss.

3.

Like clockwork, the girl makes another visit. Unlike the previous days, she lingers at the rose section with a finger on her chin. She regards each and every rose in deep thought, although the lack of tension on her face makes it look more like she's spacing out to Rosetta.

"Why don't you buy something for yourself this time?" asks Rosetta. "There's more than just roses, you know."

The girl looks at Rosetta, then the roses laid out by color in front of her. She shuffles down to the next section, scans its contents, and slips right back to the roses with a faint pout. She resumes staring--and it's a genuine mystery whether she would have been there for hours if Rosetta hadn't intervened with a question that she nearly regrets as soon as she asks.

"What's your name?"

One sheet of notepad paper and a ballpoint pen later, Rosetta learns that the girl carries the long name of Yggdrasil. She also learns that Yggdrasil is probably mute, if she isn't just shy about using her voice.

"That's a pretty name," she says, to which Yggdrasil lights up like fireworks, and in that moment she doesn't regret a thing.

Their little exchange flips off the figurative switch of indecision. Yggdrasil bends at the knees to pick a rose from the lowest row, straightens to her deceptively tall height, and spins on the balls of her sandals to approach the counter. Rosetta rings her up for a single pink rose, signaling the end of their daily encounter to date.

The door chimes softly to Yggdrasil's departure while Rosetta eyes the rose in her limp grasp.

4.

After a long moment of silence spent on searching for the right words, she says, "I'm worried."

"About what? It just sounds like she wants to be friends," says Io.

"You're my friend, Io. You haven't bought me flowers every day. Neither has Eugen nor Rackam."

Io hums. Her blank look of concentration contrasts against the slight scowl that creases Rosetta's delicate features and reflects the unease in her heart. The second rose notwithstanding, Rosetta can't shake the feeling that Yggdrasil, who clearly understands what the colors of the rose represent, is expressing more than the desire for simple friendship.

Her lips twisting in thought, Io props her elbows up on the counter to rest her chin on her hands.

"If you're that worried, why don't you ask her?"

Rosetta pulls back, straightening. She has the odd feeling that that won't be so effective either, even though the direct approach in conversation has always been her forte (should she wish it). While she doesn't say anything, a look of understanding crosses Io's face.

"That again, huh?"

"Patterns are called what they are for a reason," says Rosetta, trailing off toward the end.

"But if you let those past experiences hold you back, you'll never get anywhere with anyone. I think you should at least talk to her again, Rosetta."

"She comes just about every day. I don't have much of a choice if I want to run a business, do I?"

5.

Her ambivalence must show in the following week, for Yggdrasil watches her with that wide-eyed tilt of her head more than once. Talking around undesirable subject matter is child's play for Rosetta; on the other hand, concealing her anxiousness has never been something of a skill, and she finds herself stumbling over a few words in their brief exchanges.

Get a hold of yourself, she chides inwardly. Anything else she intended to add is lost to the wind when the door swings wide open with an extended jingle.

"Hey, Rosetta! How's the business?"

"Oh. Eugen, Rackam. Business is going well. I--" Rosetta pauses. "Did you get a haircut?"

"Who, me?" Eugen brings a hand to his head, feeling the hair beneath his palm. "Not as far as I can remember. I'm still the same old man who buys gift baskets from you."

"Really? I could've sworn that you looked . . . somewhat different."

"You all right there, Rosetta? You don't look so good."

"My, Rackam. You certainly don't mince your words for a lady."

Flustered, Rackam grunts. Eugen claps him on the shoulder, assuming the mantle for the conversation. For someone like Rackam or Eugen, it'd be difficult not to notice Rosetta's lack of energy.

"What he's saying is, we hope that you're taking care of yourself."

"I'm doing fine," says Rosetta, simpering. "What can I do for you gentlemen today? Looking for another basket for your daughter, Eugen?"

No more than ten minutes following Rackam and Eugen's departure with the latter's order placed, the door chimes softly. Rosetta smiles wryly. She doesn't need to look up to know who it is, given how gently that one always opens the door.

But she does look up, only to find her vision blocked by a bouquet of green roses held so close up to her that the flowers almost touch her nose. She sits on her side of the counter, flabbergasted and her jaw agape. From the corner of the mass of green, Yggdrasil's head pokes into view.

The radiant smile that Yggdrasil shoots her does something to ease Rosetta's heart, somewhat. At the same time, the pit in her stomach doesn't so much as budge an inch.

6.

As thanks for the lovely roses that she hadn't bought from Rosetta for once, Rosetta invites Yggdrasil out for a treat. After all the loyal business and good energy she's been offered, it would be remiss of her to continue taking yet not giving. She prepares for an awkward lunch date, but what she gets is something lighter when Yggdrasil beckons her inside a cafe.

Yggdrasil orders apple juice and refuses everything that is neither apple nor juice combined.

"Are you sure you don't want anything? What about this pastry?"

She shakes her head.

"How about a box of candy? Look, there's a nice selection here."

She shakes her head.

"You're really just going to have apple juice?"

She beams, and they take their seats beside a plantar of red roses, which Yggdrasil plays with fondly as she sips on her juice. Rosetta has never seen someone drink apple juice with such relish, and she'd never expected Yggdrasil to look so cute while doing it. Those small lips never leave the rim of the glass even once.

"You know, I like it much better now that you've stopped buying flowers from me," says Rosetta.

Caressing a red petal, Yggdrasil gives her a curious look.

"You didn't think it was strange, gifting me my own product? For me, it felt as if I were just taking your money. You're a nice girl, so it didn't sit well with me."

At that, Yggdrasil closes her eyes and smiles. She doesn't write down the exact sentiment, but Rosetta can tell what she's communicating from a mere glance.

7.

Time passes. Yggdrasil continues to visit the shop, albeit at fewer intervals than she once used to and without purchases, which all come as a relief to Rosetta. Perhaps it is friendship that Yggdrasil had been pursuing this whole time: A sweet girl like that would just so happen to express it in an unusual way.

At least, that's what Rosetta thinks--until she looks into a mirror one day and sees that her gray, ashy hair had, at some point, taken on a different hue that strikes her as completely alien. But it's a beautiful, rich thing that seems to give her face color, and for a second she doesn't believe that this is her own reflection. The epiphany renders her utterly dumbstruck, long enough that she's late to open her shop for the first time in her life.

Once she gets there, she sits down by the counter and holds her head in her hands. How did she never notice? Why now? Who is it? Her past, failed relationships come to mind; none of them, good. The questions buzz in her mind and she shakes the thoughts off with a heavy head on leaden shoulders.

8.

As a florist running a shop of her own, she meets her share of strangers every day. If there's one thing she's certain of in this uncertain time, though, it's that the person responsible can't be a complete stranger. For whatever unbelievable reason, that's what Rosetta believes.

Thus, when opportunity presents itself, she musters up all the courage in her jaded, weary bones to ask, "Are you . . . my soulmate?"

When she was a child, she'd dreamed of saying those words. Then as she grew older, she'd thought such a likelihood unlikely and moved on to those of a like mind. Those attempts at pursuing her own security had fallen through, and she'd learned her lesson not to overreach.

What had once been a dream now stands before her like a waking nightmare, and Rosetta feels a tremor coming on, threatening to overtake her entire body. But rather than the scorn or cold shoulder she's faced in the past, Yggdrasil's reply is the most earnest smile that spreads throughout her whole face and frame.

Dizzy from the overwhelming truth, Rosetta sways in place. Yggdrasil reaches out to right her, but she holds out a hand.

"Maybe . . . maybe if it's you, then . . . "

Maybe Io had been right. Maybe she'll be able to go somewhere, after all.

9.

"Seriously? She asked for your measurements?"

"She didn't ask, Io. She measured me herself," says Rosetta. "I don't think I've told you this before, but she's a seamstress. Not for a living, since she comes from old money; as a hobby. And she's quite good."

"That's kind of . . . "

"You don't approve?"

Io shakes her head. The frown on her face subsides into a tentative expression, the faintest of smile playing on her lips.

"You seem to be taking this whole soulmate matter in stride. I'm surprised you're letting all this happen." She pauses. "N-not that it's a bad thing!"

Chortling, Rosetta supports her chin on interlocked hands.

"Actually, I'm terrified. It's taking everything in me not to shake or stumble over my words. You know what my history with relationships has been like. But I have a feeling . . . this time, it might be different, and not just because of what we are."

"Did you tell Yggdrasil that?"

Rosetta hums. "I don't think I need to. That girl's better at reading people than I ever gave her credit for."

10.

Within the month, Yggdrasil presents Rosetta with a beautiful dress of whites, blacks, and reds. Sewn around the hems with a matching wreath for headwear are roses of blue, lavender, and white. The complete attire is one that Rosetta has not seen the likes of anywhere else before, and she runs her hand down the fabric with a fond gaze.

"These colors--you never bought them from me." She steps back to take in the whole dress, smiling wryly. "And this white . . . Do you really think so?"

Rosetta takes a moment to let it process, and Yggdrasil lets her. Then she reaches up to the hairpin she's worn for as long as she can remember, slides it off her long brown hair, and holds it out to Yggdrasil.

"It's not much, but I want you to have this in return."

Grinning from ear to ear, Yggdrasil all but throws herself at Rosetta with open, wide arms.

**Author's Note:**

> If it wasn't clear, Yggdrasil and Rosetta's deficient colors were green and brown, respectively. These colors not only correspond to their original elements as PCs, but signify the safety and stability in their relationship. While Yggdrasil eases Rosetta's fear of abandonment, Rosetta offers a sense of connection by understanding Yggdrasil without the need for words.
> 
> Blue roses don't exist by natural means, so Rosetta's decision to wear one is meant to evoke the image of someone who's unattainable and superficial. Since her shop doesn't carry these, Yggdrasil noticed the peculiarity right away.
> 
> I talk way too much, but it would be nice to come back to this years later and remember why the heck I chose these colors, ya feel—


End file.
